Ultramarine
by Klioud
Summary: Drabble & Ficlet Collection. Contains Spoilers. Haru and Yusuke seem to almost always be on the same page.
1. Drabble: Bicycle

Haru says she does not know how to ride a bicycle.

Yusuke does. Madarame had claimed to prefer travel by bicycle than by automobile. The latter represented a pace of life Madarame refused to match. Yusuke knows better than to believe that now. Even still, he has to agree that bicycles are nice. Not once has he ever experienced motion sickness while on one.

"I've read about it, though." She smiles sheepishly. "Futaba found an excellent website that explains the method in-depth."

"If you'd like," he says, "I could teach you."

Her smile melts into something soft.

"I'd like that."


	2. Drabble: Bicycle Helmet

The bicycle helmet is a good fit. Haru wiggles it into place on her head. Beside her, Yusuke lets out a soft laugh.

"What is it?" she asks. Tries to follow his eyes. But his gaze just leads Haru back to herself.

"Your hair," he says. One of his hands reaches out to palm the bottom of her curls. "The helmet's pushing it out, like"— he drops his hand to her shoulder— "so." They both turn to face the cycling shop's nearby mirror.

With the helmet on, she looks a lot like a scoop of ice cream.

Together, they laugh.


	3. Drabble: Tandem Bicycle

Riding a tandem bicycle is surprisingly relaxing.

As the stoker, Haru has little else to do other than pedal. She had read online that it was better to leave both the steering and balancing to the pilot. It seems like sound advice. Although the streets here are narrow, Yusuke has no trouble navigating them.

They meet their friends outside of Le Blanc.

"You weren't joking!" Ryuji says. Throws his arms wide. Futaba laughs as Haru and Yusuke each put a foot on the pavement.

"Honestly, I can't say I'm surprised," Ann says. "This is definitely something you two would do."


	4. Drabble: Ultramarine

Haru stops by an art supply store to pick up paint for Yusuke. She has learned the names for so many different colours: Prussian green and yellow ochre. Mars black and permanent carmine. Ultramarine violet.

She goes often enough that the cashier asks her what it is that she paints. Haru tells the truth: she has only painted teacups and cardboard backdrops used in school plays. These paints are not for her.

But she wants to learn more than just their names.

Somehow, Yusuke knows. He passes her a paintbrush and a tube of ultramarine.

"It'll be beautiful, like you."


	5. Drabble: Teeth

Her jaw throbs.

Haru is well-acquainted with practised smiles. So she easily spots all that rots beneath Goro Akechi's shining teeth. It makes her want to pull out every tooth of his by hand.

In the privacy of her own home, she and Yusuke talk over a teapot about fast-approaching November 4th. Her hands shake as she pours them tea. Perhaps to help steady her, Yusuke touches his fingertips to her knuckles.

"He killed him." The words spill from her at the barest touch. "He killed him, he—"

Setting down the teapot, Haru places her forehead against Yusuke's collarbone. Cries.


	6. Ficlet: Brainwashed

_Contains: Canon-typical violence._

 _Author's Note: I honestly can't recall if, in P5, characters afflicted with Rage can attack their party members. If that's not the case, let's just pretend that Brainwashing requires that the target has a strong emotion that can be exploited— in this scenario, anger._

* * *

The Shadow points a deformed finger at Fox.

Noir senses the change in his mentality before she sees it. Perhaps that is due to her ability to cut apart minds with nothing but her own. The way that his head bows only confirms what her instincts tell her.

He is Enraged.

A second passes. In the next, his sword collides with the cheek of her axe. The force of it sees her stumble backwards. Someone is shouting. Whoever it is, she cannot hear them over her thundering heartbeat.

Fox is faster than she is. Her axe is powerful but cumbersome: deflecting the first blow has not bought her any real time. The edge of his sword will find Noir before her free hand will her mask.

He mutters something under his breathe. She does not catch it. Even still, Noir knows that he has said a name. Knows which one: _Madarame._

Expecting that it would happen does not make it hurt any less. His katana traces the line of a rib as she clutches at her mask. Milady's name turns into a shallow gasp in her mouth.

Her wish finds its mark inside of his mind anyways. For a split second, Noir can feel that Rage as her own. It sticks to her like the soil from her flowerbeds. Then her power washes all but that which is trapped under her fingernails away.

Now Fox staggers backwards. His sword swings clumsily through the air to his right. She hears the crackle of fire somewhere to their left and the familiar _swoosh_ of a Shadow dissolving into nothing.

"That takes care of that!" Panther says from behind them. "Noir, you okay?"

"I'm fine." Her free hand drops to her shallow wound. It stings under her fingertips.

"She's bleeding," Fox says. Sheathes his blade. There is something like irritation to his tone. "Joker, could you—"

"Sure thing."

Noir turns in time to watch as Joker produces a bottle from somewhere between his jacket and his waistcoat. One sip from the bottle is enough for the pain to subside. Her skin and clothing begin to knit themselves together after three.

It is truly extraordinary what the ordinary can do inside of the Metaverse.

A few minutes later, Noir finds herself in the backseat of the bus. Fox sits slouched ahead of her. The bus fills with the sounds of all but his voice.

When they reach a shelter on the next floor, Noir takes the only open seat between Fox and the other Phantom Thieves.

"Fox." Her fingers hesitantly brush against the crook of his elbow. When he tenses under her touch, she lifts her hand away. "Are you alright?"

He does not quite look at her. Instead, Fox grimaces. Leans forward in his seat and clasps his hands together.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "That shouldn't have happened."

"It's alright. It wasn't you," she says. It feels like something is stuck under one of her fingernails when he bows his head. "Truly, Fox. That shadow, it— the anger that you're feeling, it's... okay. It's okay to be angry." She places her hands together in her lap. Feels her fingernails bite into her palms through her gloves. "I think we're all still a little angry."

Fox raises his head to look at her.

"I... I thought that I was— I didn't know that I still felt like _this_."

"It stays, I think— the anger. Far longer than it should. But, that's alright."

"You think so?" he asks in a small voice.

"Yes, because, so will we. We'll be there for each other. Always."


	7. Ficlet: Destinyland

Something is going to go wrong.

Haru tries to push the thought away as she passes underneath the elevated tracks of Destinyland's largest roller coaster. It takes minutes and the climb to the apex of the first drop before the thought recedes. She laughs as her stomach and the cars rocket downward. A part of her hopes that she can laugh the thought right out of her head.

But it returns just as her feet do to the hard ground.

The others do not seem to notice. They jab elbows and teasing remarks at one another. Tug on sleeves and push each other forward by the shoulders. Makoto has to practically be dragged into the haunted house. Yusuke has to practically be dragged out of a spinning tea cup.

Her unease resurfaces as Ryuji leads the charge to a pendulum ride. He is pulled off-course by Ann who steers them instead to a kiosk selling animal ears and light-up wands. Haru watches as Futaba stands on tiptoes and tries to slip a pair of ears onto Ren. He ducks away just as the headband touches his hair. They both laugh. Haru wishes she could find it in her to laugh too.

Everything is going _too_ well.

They leave the kiosk with three pairs of animal ears and the general consensus that it is time to eat. Her strides become short enough that she trails behind them all.

Somehow, so does Yusuke.

It seems he has recovered since the tea cups. The bag of ginger candies she bought for him crinkles from the pocket of his pants as he walks. The colour has returned to his face—

Her heart jolts.

She is not yet used to what she sees in his half-lidded eyes. Not yet used to that look of understanding.


End file.
